FAMILY TIES, PART ONE by Sandra

Carl and Rachel were having breakfast when the UPS man arrived with a parcel and an envelope, both addressed to Carl. Carl opened the letter first.

"It's from a firm of lawyers in Dublin." he said, "My aunt just died, and her legacy to me is the enclosed letter and the contents of the package."

He opened the smaller envelope, read the letter - his eyebrows rising to his hairline - then passed it to Rachel without comment.

"Dear Carl," she read, "Andrew made me promise to keep silent as long as I lived, and I've done that, but I think you are entitled to know the truth about your mother. You affectionate Aunt - I don't know how to pronounce this name: A-o-i-f-e?"

"Effa," said Carl, opening the parcel.

"The truth about your mother?" said Rachel. " You never told me about her."

"There's nothing to tell," said Carl, "She died when I was an infant - or so I was told. What do you make of this?"

The contents of the parcel appeared to be a solid block of highly polished wood.

"It's either a bad joke," said Rachel, "Or- "

"Or a puzzle box." said Carl, "Well, that seems appropriate."

He turned it over and over, his long fingers probing it. "Ah!"

A bit of the inlay shifted, enabling one end to be slid off, which revealed a shallow cavity inside. It contained a small book and a black-and-white photograph.

The photo, which appeared to have been taken in a nightclub, showed a blonde woman and a curly-haired man who looked amazingly like a younger Carl.

"You and your father looked so much alike!" said Rachel.

"The Hutchins DNA is potent stuff." said Carl. "Could the woman be my mother?"

"Don't you know what your mother looked like?"

"I never saw a photograph of her."

Rachel turned the photograph over. On the back was written 'GDO '41'.

"Forty-one was probably 1941, which is about when this appears to have been taken, judging from her hairdo and dress.' said Rachel. "GDO - her initials?"

"My mother's name was Helena." said Carl, "According to my father."

"What's in the book?"

Carl passed it to Rachel. It seemed to be a diary, but the ink was so faded and the handwriting so illegible that she could make nothing of it.

"My father's writing was notoriously bad.' said Carl, "I can probably decipher it, in time."

"Look Carl, there's a bookmark!" said Rachel.

It was slip of cardboard with the picture of a saint on it.

"The Little Sisters of St Jude." said Carl, "The patron saint of lost causes. Let us hope that's not a omen!"

***

Meanwhile, in Omaha, the former Cindy Harrison received a long-distance call.

"Mrs Halliday? Cynthia Brooke Halliday?"

"Yes?"

"This is Sergeant O'Rourke of the Boston Police. Your parents, Richard and Martha Brooke -"

"What about them?"

"There isn't any easy way to tell you this, Mrs Halliday: they've been in a car accident. A drunk driver smashed into them . Your father was killed instantly, and your mother is in critical condition."

"What hospital?"

"Boston General"

"I'm on my way!.

***

When Cindy arrived at the ICU, she immediately took the chart from the bottom of her mother's bed and began to read it.

"Excuse me!" said the nurse, trying to take it back, "You are not allowed -"

"I'm an RN, Sweetie." said Cindy. The prognosis was not good. It would take a miracle to save her mother's life.

"Leave me alone with her, please." The nurse obligingly left. Cindy sat down, and took hold of her mother's limp hand.

"Mommy?' she said, "It's Cindy. I'm here. I came as soon as they told me. I - I'm sorry about Daddy. They say he - didn't suffer. Mommy, I want you to know that - I'm okay. I know I've done some bad things in the past, but now I'm married to a wonderful guy, who treats me like - a lady! He doesn't let me get away with any of my tricks - and he's rich and handsome! - Mommy, I always wanted us to be close, and we never were! And now, its almost too late! Mommy, please, tell me that you love me! Just

once , say 'I love you Cindy'!"

Martha Brooke's eyelids fluttered.

"Mommy?"

Her mother's eyes opened.

"Mommy, I'm here! I love you, Mommy!"

Her lips moved. "S-Sarah!"

"CINDY! I'm Cindy! Sarah is dead!" The machines hooked up to her mother flatlined.

"And so are you." Cindy finished, as the nurses came running in.

***

"Somerset House sent a copy of my birth certificate." said Carl, "It's quite in order: Carl Andrew Hutchins, born Oct 22, 1941, Father Andrew Patrick , Mother Helena. However, they can't find any trace of my parents' marriage certificate, or of a death certificate for my mother."

"Well, there was a war on." said Rachel, "The records my have been destroyed in the Blitz."

"Perhaps," said Carl, "Or perhaps they never existed, because Helena - if that was indeed her name - was not my father's wife!"

"So this is the house where you grew up." said David.

"Yup! Home Sweet Home." said Cindy, frowning as she looked around the small house.

"This must have been Your room." said David. It was a young girl's dream room, with flowered wallpaper, a ruffled pink bedspread, and a row of dolls on a shelf.

"No, this was Sarah's room." said Cindy, "Mommy kept it like a shrine. My room, she turned into a sewing room."

"If your parents left a will, where would it be?" said David, "Did they have a safe, or a safety deposit box?"

"Are you kidding?" said Cindy. "They were working people. They probably kept important papers in a shoebox under the bed."

The shoebox proved to be on the top shelf of the closet in the master bedroom, next to one full of family photos.

"It looks as though they kept everything," said David. "This may take a while."

Cindy emptied the shoebox onto the bed, and began sorting through the contents. "Tax receipts - union membership - marriage certificate - oh my!"

"What is it?" said David.

"Adoption papers, for a female child born April 13, 1970. That's MY birthday!"

"You didn't know you were adopted?"

"No, but it explains a lot," said Cindy, "Like why I never really felt like part of the family. Why they treated me like a neighbour's child who had dropped in without an invitation."

"Was your sister Sarah adopted too?"

"No, here's her birth certificate. Apparently, after they'd given up hope of having a child of their own, and settled for ME, Mommy managed to get pregnant after all."

"I've heard that can happen." said David, "People stop trying so hard, there's not so much stress, and - it happens."

"I wonder why they didn't just send me back?" said Cindy.

"The idea probably never even crossed their minds." said David. "You know, we could probably use these papers to track down your real mother."

***

"I've made progress in deciphering my father's book." said Carl, "It seems that he spent the war years as a Black Marketeer. He had a wide circle of upper-class twit 'friends', because he could get them all the little luxuries they craved - champagne, silk stockings, extra petrol - Andrew Hutchins could get you anything, for a price."

"That's what the book is about?" said Rachel.

"Only incidentally," said Carl, "It's mostly a record of my father's relationships with women - a whole series of women."

"Sort of 'Memoires of an Irish Casanova'?"

"More or less. The first reference to GDO reads 'Cocktails at A. Met GDO, refugee from Adoph '- Hitler, obviously - 'Husband conveniently absent'."

"At least we've established that GDO is a woman's initials." said Rachel.

"They became lovers about a week later."

"Fast work!"

"He catalogues her charms, then goes into rather pornographic detail about who did what -"

"I'll spare your blushes." said Rachel.

"The affair continued - although she wasn't the only woman he was sleeping with - " Carl flipped pages. "Ah , here it is: 'GDO definitely in club. Swears it's mine.' "

"Club?"

"The Pudding club. It means she was pregnant." said Carl, "He goes on ' I offered to pay for a doctor' - meaning an abortion, -' but she won't hear of it. Arrangements will have to be made.' "

"So, to sum up," said Rachel, "According to your father's diary, he got a woman with the initials GDO pregnant, the same year you were born, and a photo of your father and GDO was included in the parcel containing the book, by your Aunt Aoife, who says that there was a mystery about your mother."

"All of which leads to the inescapable conclusion that GDO was my mother." said Carl, "I'm a bastard."

"Darling, half the people we know are illegitimate children, or have illegitimate children, or both." said Rachel, "Paulina, Felicia, Donna , ME -"

"Rachel, I know illegitimacy isn't the social stigma it used to be." said Carl, "It's just a bit of a shock, that's all."

"I guess the next step is to try and find out who GDO was." said Rachel,

"Yes, and I believe the place to start looking is Ireland. " said Carl, "I am of the Holy Land/ Of Ireland/ Of sweet charity/ come dance with me/ in Ireland."

"How can I?" said Rachel, "I can't leave the Grubs. When you went away overnight on business, they stayed awake half the night crying for Dada. If we Both go away, they'll never forgive us!"

"Then let's take them with us." said Carl.

"Carl! Do you have any idea how - Complicated - travelling to a foreign country with two pre-schoolers would be? And they're much too young to appreciate the trip!"

"Very true," said Carl, "Let's do it anyway. I don't want to be seperated from them again until they leave for college."

"Well-"

"Debra!"

The children's nanny came downstairs. "Yes, Mr Hutchins?"

"What do you say to a trip to the Auld Sod?"

To be continued.